Authors: Wendy Warren
Chapter Eleven
“‘D
ouble support’ means both of your feet have to be touching the pavement at the same time,” Derek insisted as he, Holliday and Izzy slogged back into town after an hour and a half of training for the Ridge-to-the-Coast Relay. They were participating as Team Pickle Jar, and Izzy had made T-shirts—gray with the words “Got Pickles?” underneath a smiling green dill that had arms and legs and running shoes. So far, no one but she was willing to wear the shirt.
“I didn’t see both your feet on the ground at the same time once today,” Derek harassed Holliday, who had been rolling her eyes more than her feet while Derek coached them.
“On the day of the race, I will be wearing my Daisy Dukes and a Got Pickles? T-shirt that I have preshrunk and cut to midriff length. No one—except you—will be looking at my feet. Guaranteed.”
“You’re really going to wear your Got Pickles? tee?” Izzy exclaimed, feeling her energy return. Holliday smiled beatifically. “Thanks!” Every bit of advertising was going to help.
“You think sex is going to sell pickles?” Derek scoffed.
Both women looked at him.
“Jeepers, I’m not sure, Sheriff.” Holliday mock frowned. “It’s hard to tell what’ll sell here in Mayberry. Hey, I know,” she said, and her expression cleared. “Let’s ask Opie!”
Derek’s scowl intensified. He hated Holliday’s periodic references to the old
Andy Griffith Show
. She’d accused him more than once of trying to keep Thunder Ridge in the dark ages with his old-fashioned values. The town-hall lecture he had given the previous month on the perils of littering, jaywalking and other misdemeanors—complete with a pie chart he’d labeled Small Crimes, Big Fines—hadn’t helped matters.
“The Pickle Jar is a family restaurant,” he said. “That’s what I’m saying. Izzy doesn’t want to confuse the customers. Do you, Izz?”
“Oh. Uh, well...no,” she agreed at Derek’s thunderous expression, “of course not. Although, you know, it might not
confuse
them exactly. And Holly is the local librarian. There’s an implied wholesomeness right there.”
“Wholesome?” both Holliday and Derek protested, but then Holly turned to the sheriff and growled, “Watch it, pal. I’m a county employee, too.”
Izzy shook her head and moved on as the bickering continued. Who cared if Holly wore cutoffs and showed her midriff? It was hard to confuse customers who didn’t exist.
As they walked past Burger-ology, one of Thunder Ridge’s newer venues, Izzy’s mood dropped a bit. Okay, a ton. Burger-ology, which was decorated in fire-engine red, cloud white and sleek chrome, appeared to be doing a bang-up lunch business. When she’d phoned The Pickle Jar at the end of their walk, Willa had answered and admitted that lunch had been slow.
“I’m thirsty after all that walking,” she said, changing the channel in her mind. There would be time to obsess about work after she showered and returned to the deli. “Anybody feel like getting an ice-cream soda?”
Thankfully, both of her friends agreed, and they all headed to The General Store. A couple of blocks away from the small market and soda fountain, they could see a large crowd gathered outside. The sound of raised voices made Derek pick up the pace while Izzy and Holliday jogged behind.
“Raybald, you nutcase! Come down from there, you hear me?” Jax Stewart, owner of The General Store, stood at the front of the crowd, shading his eyes as he looked up. “This is my building. And I do not want you hanging off the second story.”
“I rent this second story, and I know my rights. This barber pole is
my
property. I can be out here if I want to be! I can sing ‘America the Beautiful’ if I want to. In fact, I think I will. ‘Oh, beautiful for spacious skies—’”
Ron Raybald had, from what Izzy could see, tied himself to the striped pole outside the window of his second-floor barbershop.
“What the devil—” Pushing through the crowd, Derek shouted above the chatter, “Ron! What the heck are you doing?” Ron continued to sing. Derek turned to Jax. “What’s he doing?”
“Sealing his fate. He’s going to wind up in a loony bin for the rest of his sorry life!” The latter part of Jax’s statement was yelled at Ron, who responded by singing louder.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Derek lowered his head. “Can anybody here tell me what is going on? Where’s Russell?”
Russell was one of Derrick’s deputies.
“He went up the Ridge,” Jonas Bates, owner of the hardware store, called out in the creaky voice that reminded Izzy of the rusty nails Jonas always advocated replacing. “Two summer skiers got into a tussle on the chairlift, so Russ went to sort them out. But I can tell you what’s going on.” He pointed to Jax. “Jax gave Ron a notice saying he’s planning to remodel the building, and Ron thinks that’s going to hurt business.”
In the middle of a rousing “and crown thy good,” Ron abruptly stopped singing and said, “I was not worried about business! I’m not thinking about myself. It’s my civic duty to protest the destruction of culturally relevant structures. I am a member of the Thunder Ridge Historical Society.”
“Hysterical Society is more like it,” Jax sniped. “And I am not destroying the building, you rabble-rouser, I’m improving it.”
“Words, words, words,” Ron sang. “That’s all I hear is meaningless words.”
“Come on down, I’ll give you something meaningful,” Jax shouted.
“That’s enough, both of you!” While Derek attempted to calm the storm, Izzy motioned to Holliday that she was heading home. When Eli wasn’t around, she rarely stayed away from the restaurant.
“What’s going on?”
Izzy looked up. Nate greeted her, his expression open and relaxed, a contrast from when she last saw him. In perfectly cut jeans and a crisp white T-shirt that highlighted the classic V of his torso, he emitted the same golden-boy aura she’d sensed the first time she’d ever laid eyes on him.
He’d certainly changed, though. If people were cars, Nate would have been a Mustang in high school—sporty, fast, cool. As an adult, he was a Jaguar—powerful yet smooth, confident but not pretentious, great looking with substance.
“Sidewalk sale?” he inquired humorously as they met at the curb.
“No, just a difference of opinion between Jax Stewart and Ron Raybald.”
“Jax?” One of Nate’s ridiculously well-shaped black brows arched. “That’s who I’m coming to see. What’s happening between him and Ron?”
Briefly, Izzy described the conflict. “Jax and Ron are reflecting what’s going on all over town. Half the people are screaming for progress—a new cell tower, more modern shops, a fast-food restaurant—and the other half want everything to stay the way it is, because they’re afraid to lose the sweetness of the town.”
Nate nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “It
is
a sweet place. More run-down than I remembered it, though. Is it realistic to keep it the way it is?”
“It’s always been run-down. You’re probably noticing it more because you’ve been away.”
“Which side of the divide do you stand on? Are you a fan of progress or preservation?”
“Both, I suppose. I see the value of remodeling the older buildings, but people like Ron can’t afford to close down during construction. And Jax can. He’s inherited quite a few properties around town. Ron thinks Jax would be happy to close him down so he can have the whole building, because when Jax’s grandfather owned the building, he gave Ron a ninety-nine-year lease. Now that Jax has inherited the business and the property, some people think Jax would like to force Ron and a few other tenants out.”
“That doesn’t sound like Jax. He’s a good man.”
A kernel of memory popped in Izzy’s brain. Nate and Jax had played football together. Like Nate, Jax had moved away after high school, but he’d returned a few years ago with a business degree.
“In addition to inheriting, Jax has been buying properties all over Thunder Ridge, from what I understand. A lot of business people are renting from him now. It’s understandable that they’re fidgety, wondering what he has in mind. He’s not endearing himself to people by dissing the local Historical Society.”
Nate pulled out his phone and started texting, then slipped it into his back pocket and smiled at Izzy. “Want to get something to drink?”
“I thought you were here to see Jax.”
“I just told him we can reschedule. Sounds like he’s busy.” Nate’s gaze skimmed Izzy. “You still look good in shorts.”
Instantly, she felt self-conscious. Her hand rose to her hair, which was damp with perspiration. “I’m a sweaty mess.”
Nate shook his head. “Women never understand what turns a man on.”
“Sweat?”
He took a step closer as Jax and Ron’s audience started to disperse. “Passion. Drive. You look like you were very driven today. Plus, you’re wearing a Got Pickles? T-shirt.”
“And that’s hot?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Awareness sizzled inside Izzy. The anticipation of what they would say next tasted like champagne. She jumped as a hand patted her back.
“Hi, there,” Holliday said. She draped herself over Izzy’s shoulder. “Derek went up to the barbershop to unhook Ron from the pole. Ron can’t get the knots out of the rope he used. Jax is getting a pair of gardening shears. There’s just never a dull moment around here.” She sent a dazzling smile from Nate to Izzy and back again.
“Nate Thayer, I heard you were back!” An older gentleman Izzy did not recognize pumped Nate’s hand while clapping him on the upper arm.
While the two men started chatting, Holliday whispered to Izzy, “He’s been ogling your legs.”
“No, he hasn’t. Really?”
“Yes, indeed. Are you two getting together right now?”
“No, I was going to go home.”
“Alone?”
Her tone was so insinuating Izzy felt a chuckle in her chest. “Yes, you scary sex addict, alone. I have something serious to discuss with him, remember?”
“You’re allowed to talk during sex.”
“Didn’t you recommend remaining calm, cool and collected during my encounters with Nate? ‘Keep a cool head. Keep your emotions under control’—that’s what you said.”
“I’m always calm, cool and collected during sex. Besides, I told you all that before I saw the way Tall, Dark and
Deee
licious looks at you. Now I think you should have sex
and
tell him he’s the father of your child.”
“Shh,” Izzy pleaded, even though Holly’s voice was already a murmur. “I’m not that girl anymore. No sex until—”
“The afterlife?”
“Hilarious. No. No sex until Eli is out of the house, and I find someone to share the rest of my life with.”
“With the magic Mr. Right? What if you never find him? Birds do it, bees do it, even girls in pickle tees can do it.”
“Very funny.”
“And it rhymes.”
“Shh, here he is again.”
Nate’s conversation wrapped up, and he returned to the women, but as he opened his mouth to speak, an elderly female voice exclaimed, “Izzy, darling, my lawn looks like an Old English sheepdog. Is Eli available to mow?”
Holliday’s arm tightened around Izzy’s shoulders even as Izzy tightened up all over.
“Hi, Evelyn!” she said to the eightysomething redhead, who approached with single-minded determination.
I can’t think of anything else to say
, Izzy thought in blind panic. She looked at Holliday, who also appeared stumped.
Wearing a lightweight pale pink jogging suit, Evelyn stopped directly in front of them. “Darling, I know it’s summer, but I’m still watering my lawn, and it’s growing like wildfire. When can Eli come over?”
Oh, dear lord. This was not how she wanted Nate to find out he had a son. “Right. Well, Evelyn, I think, um... Didn’t he tell you? He went out of town. I think he’ll be available again next week. I’ll have to check my calendar. My yard’s a mess, too!” Good! She’d made him sound like a gardener. Holliday gave her an approving squeeze.
Evelyn, however, gave her a strange look. “You think he’ll be available? Don’t you know? I don’t approve of all this not-knowing what goes on these days. Honey, Eli is still only—”
“He is still the only person I’d trust with my lawn,” Holliday interrupted, releasing Izzy and flinging her arm around Evelyn instead, “if I had one.” She began leading the woman away. “Evelyn, did I tell you the books you put on hold are in? There are three other holds, though, on
Hip Hop for Dummies
, so we should pick that up for you right away.”
“Ooh. All right, I don’t want to lose that one. But you’ll call me?” she asked Izzy anxiously over her shoulder.
“Yes. Very soon.”
Faintly bemused, Nate commented. “Sounds like Thunder Ridge could use a few good landscapers.”
“Yeah.” Emitting a high, ridiculous-sounding laugh, Izzy grabbed Nate’s elbow and propelled him across the street.
I have got to tell him before he finds out from somebody else.
As they stepped up on the opposite curb, in front of the park, she announced, “I don’t have to work tonight. I was thinking about driving into Portland to...”
It was summer—what was going on in Portland?
“To...go to...the...summer concert series! At the zoo. Remember those?”
“Yeah, of course. I saw Earth, Wind and Fire there.”
“Wow. Well, tonight is—”
Oh, crumbs.
She had no idea who was playing at the zoo tonight.
Don’t get specific. Keep it general.
“Who knows who’s playing? So, would you like to? Go with me? To the concert?”
If a bobblehead doll could speak, it would sound exactly like me.
She wasn’t entirely surprised when Nate studied her dubiously a moment, then said, “I’ll walk you home.”
So, that would be a no?
Great. Now she was going to have to figure out another time to tell him, and she preferred to be away from Thunder Ridge when she did it.
Taking the lead, she walked beside him, silent as the sun warming their skin. Nate looked enviably cool, but Izzy could smell his skin. Perhaps it was more memory than reality, but he had that yummy Nate’s-skin scent that used to make her want to snuggle into him and stay there indefinitely.
Nate seemed as content to walk without speaking, beyond the streets that formed the center of town, and into the residential area where she shared the little cottage with—